Proposal
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Because it's not a Triple H proposal without talking about eating brains and tasting the blood of dead lovers. Honestly, it's just not. - One-shot.


"Where are we even going to both be? Friday? Because I have Smackdown on Tuesday to contend with and I know that you wanted to spend some time at home this week," Steph was going on and on as she walked around the tiny motel room she and Paul had been sharing for the week. It was Saturday and they were both heading out to the next town that RAW would be held in. "So are we going to spend Valentine's Day at home? Or not?"

"I dunno," he told her as evenly as he could while sitting there, on the end of the bed, staring at the cheap television in front of it. She was more of the packer and he was mostly just the conversationalist. Like so. "Whatever you wanna do."

"Well, I don't really care what we do this year. It's up to you."

"Oh."

See? Conversations coming from left and right. She really should be more appreciative for what he brought to the table.

"Oh as in yes, you want to do something? Or oh, as in no, you don't?"

"I dunno."

"Paul-"

"Babe, we're going to do something for the damn day. Chill." He used the remote resting on his thigh to turn up the television. "I'm watching something."

"Surely you understand why this matters a little bit. Right? Because if we're planning on going out, we should at least know where we're going to be. If we'll be home or-"

"Home. I'll take you somewhere nice or something. Just shuddup."

That got him a flick to head when she passed, though he didn't move in the slightest.

"You do know that we have a flight to catch, yes?"

"Mmmmm."

"Which means you need to get up. And have you even showered today?"

Groaning, he turned the television up even louder. "You know, Steph, one of my favorite parts of our relationship is that we can communicate without even saying anything. So let's get back to that, huh?"

"You're so stupid."

Maybe. But in that situation, he was trying to shut her up for a far more valiant reason. Namely, if she kept hounding him on it, he might just let slip what they were truly doing.

And he did not want to let slip what they were truly doing.

Stephanie wasn't giving in though. She hadn't for awhile. That wasn't the first time that she'd brought up the 14th. Even back in January, towards the end of the month, she began to question just what they'd spend their Valentine's Day doing.

In very vague ways, of course. She'd mention the town they'd be in prior to it, for the show and then skate around the different things they could do while there. And when he'd inevitably bring up that Valentine's Day fell during that time period, she'd act shock and pretend to have no idea.

His woman never was the best actor. Just very committed.

She was even worse, the week before the holiday. Constantly questioning if he really wanted to do something because they didn't have to do something and if they did, they didn't have to do it on that Friday, but rather any day he wanted, like the weekend after or the weekend before or never.

They could do absolutely nothing. It was up to him.

Paul wondered if maybe there was something up. If maybe someone had tipped her off about what he was planning on doing. If perhaps she was attempting to trick him into telling her about the surprise.

But who could have? The only ones that new were a few of his friends, none of hers, his parents and sister, as well as her father and mother. And he didn't think Vince or Linda would blab. Mainly because Vince had a thousand other things to deal with and Linda was rather nice towards Paul, even when the others weren't, and had never been much of a monster over the whole 'him fucking the boss' daughter thing'.

Either way, he just didn't think anyone had told her about it. And he was nearly certain she hadn't overheard him or found any clues to piece things together.

Maybe she was just being nosy. There was a good chance of that. Or insecure. She was that way at times. And though in the past three years of dating, in which they'd had already two Valentine's Days together, he'd more or less quelled her frequent worries of inadequacy on her part or stagnancy on his, maybe the day was just ruffling up some more for her.

It made Paul wish that the day would hurry up and get there, so he'd be able to just show her what it was that he was planning and get it all over with. At the same time, however, he was rather nervous about the whole thing and wasn't sure how she'd take it. They'd spoken in rather broad terms about such a thing, typically late at night when they were both lying around, mostly enjoying being together, but talk was cheap.

And if there was anything the McMahons weren't, it was cheap.

So it was time to put up or shut up. And he was ready to put it all up, all of it, for her. The only fear, honestly, was whether or not she was going to be feeling the same or not.

After having not been back to their apartment in nearly a month, Stephanie was glad that he chose for them to go there, regardless of whether or not he'd be taking her out to dinner for the holiday or not. Just to be out of motel rooms and in their apartment felt nice. Not to mention, she'd have a chance to check in at WWF headquarters eventually, to do somethings there. Home first though. They stopped on the way in to stock up on some groceries, as their place was no doubt void of anything fresh after so long, but other then that, went straight home when they got into town.

"I will say one thing I enjoy more when we're out is that we can get away from the cold," Steph griped, if only a little bit, that night as they snuggled up on the couch. She was bundled up under blankets, their trip from the mild southern winter clearly spoiling her into not being able to handle the harsh northern one they were in the midst of. "Aren't you freezing, Paul?"

"I'm fine," he said simply, settled into the couch with his feet resting on the hassock while she rested with her head against his thigh. "But then, I'm not a big baby about any and all things cold."

"Neither am I.'

"Not usually. But you sure have been bratty about it today."

"I have not."

"Steph." He glanced down at her. "You can't seriously be saying that you haven't-"

"We left 70 degree weather to come back to a practical blizzard." She shivered, just for show. "I think I'm allowed a bit of whining."

"You are." Then he shrugged. "I mean, it wouldn't matter if I said you were or not, I'm sure, but-"

"Paul-"

"-because you'd do it anyways, but here we are." He had one hand stretched out, rested on her side. "I dunno about you, but I'd rather be lying here with you anyways, in our place, where I can leave trash lying around all willy-nilly without having to worry about some poor maid having to clean it up-"

"I'm that poor maid, Paul. When we're at home. I'm the one that has to clean it up."

"Just nice to be back."

"God, you kill me."

"Mmmm," he hummed. "Let's just sit here for forever, huh?"

"And do this for Valentine's Day?"

"Nah. My woman deserves a fancy, romantic wining and dining."

"Let me guess. And then a fucking?"

"Why, Steph, I'm surprised at you. Using such a term."

"Shut up. You say it all the time."

"Do not. Never. Must be someone else."

"Paul-"

"Who else is it then? Huh?" He glared down at her playfully. "That tells you he'll fuck you senseless-"

"I said nothing about senses, thanks, and rather like the idea of keeping mine-"

"-and cares only about himself and his own pleasure and won't even return the favor, after you blow him, because he's just so self-centered-"

"Now you've thrown me. I thought you were describing yourself before, but-"

"Steph, would you just play along?" He flicked her ear. "Tell me about some mystery guy. Get me all riled up. Angry. Hot. Make me-"

"Hearing about me and some other guy gets you hot?"

"If he really fucked you good."

"See? You just said the word. You ruined it."

"I said it in reference to what he does to you. Not what I do."

"Then what do you do?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you even have to ask?"

"Apparently."

"I'm all tender and soft and nice and just a great guy."

Rolling her eyes and deciding to play into whatever game it was that he wanted, Steph said, "Then maybe that's why I like the other guy."

"Oh?"

She nodded a bit, though she was still lying sideways, facing the television. "Well, yeah. Sometimes you need it rough and hard and...passionate-"

"Hold it. You gettin' passionate with others now, Steph?"

"I'm getting real passionate."

"Well shit."

"Mmmhmm."

"What sorta depraved things does he do to you?"

"Well, the biggest one is he never takes out the damn trash-"

"Steph, you're ruining-"

"He doesn't," she started again, for real (or for pretend, rather, as they were trying hard to make their joke into an imagined reality), "care."

"Care about what?"

"If it..." Steph thought for a moment, about where she could possibly go from there before saying, "He doesn't care if it hurts me."

That made Paul pause too, thinking, before saying, "Why is that what came into your-"

"You wanted depraved," she complained. "That sounds pretty depraved."

"I wanted that he ties you up or that he likes blindfolds."

"That's not depraved."

"Hurting you getting him off though-"

"It doesn't get him off. I said that he just doesn't care if it happens." Steph sat up then, so that they could look at one another. "There's a difference."

"But is there?"

Nodding, she said, "It would mean that he-"

"It does mean that he," he corrected. "Because this really happens. You really have a guy that fucks the shit outta you-"

"In a literal context, that would be pretty gross."

"-and he doesn't give a damn what it does to you."

Nodding at that, she said, "And that means that it doesn't affect him one way or another. He doesn't get off on it, at all."

"But it means that he doesn't get turned off by it either."

"Maybe I like that he doesn't."

Paul blinked, shifting on the couch so that they could stare at one another full on. "Do you?"

"Are you… Like me? Or this pretend me that we're inventing?"

"I don't know. You just sound...serious."

Steph raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, what if I am?"

Shrugging a bit, Paul said, "I mean, I could think of a few things I could do to you that might not be great for you, but would be heaven for me."

"But you're Mr. Good Guy."

"Mr. Good Guy can be Mr. Bad Guy." He was reaching then, for the remote, to shut off the television. They weren't watching anything near as interesting as where their conversation was headed. "If it means keeping his woman."

"Maybe his woman doesn't wanna be kept. Maybe she likes having two guys around who-"

"Steph, you're ruining things again."

"How?" she complained, annoyed now. "You said to play along and I-"

"But now we're drifting into serious territory. Unless… Babe, are fucking around on me?"

He couldn't even say it with a straight face though, especially when she shoved at him, annoyed with the accusation.

"I play your game and I get accused of cheating because of it?" He got shoved harder and Paul gave way easily, still chuckling. "That's not fair."

"That's what happens when you play with the Game, babe. You get played."

Stephanie sat back some, staring hard at him, before saying, "So the thought of me getting fucked senseless-"

"Shitless. I like shitless now."

"-gets you hot, but if it were actually happening-"

"I'd squish his head between my hands," he said, making the gesture with his hands while he was at it, "and make you watch."

"Ew." That definitely took her out of the joking mood. "Paul-"

"I'd make you lick his brains off my palms and then tell you to-"

"I don't like this game either. It's really weird. And you sound kinda into it."

But he smiled at her, widely, before saying, "I'm just into messing with you, babe. You know my kinks."

"Apparently murder and blood is one of them-"

"Brains. I wanted you to lick the brains off my hands. Chew 'em up. And-"

"Paul, knock it off."

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, shaking his head at her a bit. "How did we get on this subject again?"

"You." He got his shoulder shoved once more. "Just like always. You're always stirring things up."

"Mmmm. Sorry. I just play kinda rough, I guess." Then he snickered. "Even verbally."

"I thought you were Mr. Good Guy? Now I'm with Mr. Bad?"

"Do you wanna be with Bad? I can be Bad. I could fuck you shitless-"

"I don't like that phrase."

"-if that's what you want. Pin your arm behind your back as I take you from behind. Twist it. Harder. Bite you. I could break your skin. Your flesh. You wanna bleed, Steph?"

"Okay, now that definitely sounds like you're getting off on something. Which is what I specified Mr. Bad _didn't_ do." She fell back down then, to rest her head in his lap once more. "And I feel like you only caused all this-"

"Caused all what? This great discussion of brain eating and senseless fucking?"

"-to avoid me asking what we're doing on Friday."

He frowned before glancing down a her with mock surprise. "What's Friday?"

"Paul-"

"Steph, I said we're going out. I've told you that a thousand times."

He sounded annoyed, which she didn't want. At all. She just was...stressing, sort of, because she always stressed over big days. Big dates. Like their anniversary. Or whose family they'd be spending holidays with (the few, of course, that they weren't working). Valentine's Day was a very big deal to her and they had had very nice ones in the past, but being together for nearly three years that point changed things a bit, for her.

It wasn't that they had become...stagnant or anything of the sort, but things were only getting more and more real between them. And with a real relationship came less of a sense of urgency in many aspects. They didn't have to impress one another any longer and hadn't, for a really long time. Paul would take a piss while she was in the bathroom, getting ready for the day (if not worse), Steph had no problem asking him to pick up more sensitive products for her, they more or less were open in every aspect of what they were thinking or feeling.

Things were...less flashy. More down to earth. Practical. They saw and treated one another with more relaxed gloves. They weren't perfect and saw the defects in one another easily. In a lot of ways, that was a good thing. Steph liked that. It gave their relationship better grounding.

At the same time though, it led to those sorts of thoughts, the ones that she was having at that moment, about what Friday meant, and if Paul would take it seriously or not. Or if he'd approach it in a half-assed way and give it hardly any thought at all.

Because they were real. And real people didn't need to put on for one another.

Except for when they did.

And she was needing that. A lot of that. On Valentine's Day.

Which Paul was going to give her. He was going to give her such a dose of love, unadulterated love, that she wouldn't know what to do with it.

But to further the blow, he wasn't going to let on, not in the slightest, about anything. She'd be so surprised that it would be perfect.

He just had to make make her think that it wasn't going to be perfect, that there was no surprise, that he'd get them some decent reservations and her some roses and that would be it. Maybe some chocolates. Nothing fancy.

Not anything like what he was going to be doing.

She was annoying him a tad though. And kind of killing his buzz over the whole thing. It almost made him want to just tell her that, hey, he was going to freaking surprise her with a proposal, but no, she ruined it and now she had to live with that.

Paul didn't, of course, do that, because as much as he was going through the whole charade for her benefit, he was honestly going to be getting off on it too. He wasn't a showy guy, at least not in his personal life, but that was one thing that he definitely could handle. He wanted to handle. To see Steph all shocked and happy and teary too, probably, because the woman could tear up about nearly anything, would make him…

Kinda teary too.

Paul loved his woman. Deeply. Like no other love he'd felt. It fucking hurt at times, just having to be away from her, when she had shit to deal with back at the main office and he had to be on the road, preforming. She had come to be his best friend. He told her everything. Which was hard, considering they _did_ basically everything together.

She was literally his other half.

Friday felt too far away, almost, for the both of them, honestly.

When it rolled around though, and he was getting ready, to go out, putting on his nice clothes that he only wore when the McMahons were having one of those florid dinners that they had from time to time (in actuality, they were kinda rare, as Vince was much more of a barbeque or relaxed attire affairs type of guy) or something of the like, Paul felt rather...revealed. It was finally time. And sure, he was anxious (because, fine, he and Steph were the ones for one another, but what if she felt as if he were jumping the gun or that she wasn't ready or something else horrible like that), but deep down, he just felt like it was time.

It had been time.

Steph was rather antsy that night for her own reasons, of course, but Paul only bought a bottle of wine, right off the bat, even though he didn't drink, because he knew that his woman did and it would loosen her up a bit.

Not that he wanted her to, like, drunkenly admit to marry him. But...if it took the edge off…

She was happy with him though, just a bit, he could tell, because the place that he got them reservations at was _clearly_ no a last minute thing. Not even close. It was high class. He'd planned, in advance, for such a thing. That alone would have been enough for the woman.

Still, it wasn't all she was getting.

"You seem distracted," she told him around a third glass of wine, giggling, even as she said it, though it was hard to tell if it was the alcohol that had her in such a state or, rather, just that she was so giddy over him taking her out. Probably a mixture. "Paul."

"Distracted," he repeated slowly, glancing up from his dinner to stare at her. "Why do you think that? Steph?"

"I dunno. You're just...letting me talk and only staring at me and not saying much and… Paul?"

"I'm listening. Just...thinking. That's all."

"You're not listening." She was still giggling though, reaching for her wine glass once more. "You're zoning out on me."

"Never." Leaning forward slightly, he leveled his gaze with hers before saying, "I listening to you, Steph. I'm always listening to you. I promise. You were talking about how your friend and her husband took that trip and how you want us to take a trip one day. I'm just...thinking. About what you're saying. That's all. Swear."

He got a real suspicious look, but he grinned wide for her, wide enough to make her laugh some more and forget why she'd stopped her story in the first place. Or even, honestly, what her story was. He laughed too, with her, because she was so silly and so pretty and damn, he was about to do it, wasn't he? He was going to ask her to marry him.

The thought alone made him a bit panicky.

Steph loved romantic shit though, so when he finally was able to choke the words out of his throat through the nerves that had worked up in him (the man was able to speak in front of a live audience once a week, but the thought of asking Steph to marry him scared the shit out of him, go figure), she was all for it. She teared up, just like he figured she would, because she was drunk and happy and it was kinda embarrassing to him, honestly, because other people noticed and it was just…

It was for her. And that made it all worth it.

Paul's palms had been sweaty, when he pulled that little black box out of his pocket and his fingers fumbled with the ring, when he put it on her finger. The only thing that seemed to be working for him was that he was so used to doing embarrassing things (he had just gone through that damned Katie Vick arc) because, damn, he thought that it was kinda corny, proposing on Valentine's Day, but Steph ate it up. She was into that sorta stuff. And he was into her, so, obviously, he'd be into it too, if he had to be.

It wasn't even a have to, really. It was a want. He wanted to do things that made Steph happy. Not because he knew that happy girlfriend was consequential to a happy life (although, he did know that and was conscious of it), but because it just made him feel good, to see her happy. He was happy when she was happy because he loved her and loved doing things for her and he just…

He and Steph were just meant to be. That was all there was to it.

Paul thought that she'd wanna go for a walk, after dinner, but Steph was so thrilled over the whole thing that the only thing she wanted to do was go home and call everyone she knew, to gush about what had happened.

Oh, and to be with her future husband too.

That was big on the list as well.

Paul played along with her for awhile, through her calling her parents and brother and then his parents, but eventually he got a bit tired of the phone and, when she hung up with his mother and father, he snatched it from her.

"Hey-"

"No more calls." He tossed her cell onto the nightstand, as they relaxed in bed. He was lying on his side, next to her, and moved to throw an arm around her middle, pulling her closer. She was still in that oh so pretty red dress of hers that he was certain she'd wanna slip out of before they did anything and put away properly, but he wasn't very interested in that moment. Just wanted to be close. "Just you and me."

"Paul-"

"Just," he said as he sat up a bit, so that he could stare down at her, "you and me."

Steph giggled too, even though he thought she'd be all out of those, given how much she had that night, and her lips still tasted of wine, just as they had since they'd left the restaurant, every time he'd tried to get at them since then, which was fine. Steph was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine.

"From now on," she agreed when they separated again, though he couldn't remember what he'd said for her to be agreeing too, but it sounded nice, anyhow. About as nice as her hand felt, when it moved to cup his face and he could feel the band that rested on her finger then as it brushed his cheek. "Forever."

"Forever," he repeated because it didn't really matter what it was that she was agreeing with and he was mimicking, because if it was about them, then the word forever was all that needed to be said. And, even though it was such a cute moment, he still had to whisper, "Brain chunks and all," to her because everything had to be a joke, just to get her to laugh, regardless of how many times she had already that week, that day, that hour, in those moments.

Only, Steph frowned then, instead of giggling, and only said, "What?"

"You know. The brain thing? From the other day?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but I thought by not mentioning it again, we were both going to agree that that never happened."

"When did we agree on that?"

"It was a silent agreement."

"Are we that in sync then? That we can agree on things silently?"

"You're the one that said we have silent conversations," she accused as he dipped his head down again, nuzzling his forehead to hers, though he did so gently, as not to shake her hand off his cheek. "Remember?"

"I don't remember nothin'. Not if it incriminates me."

"Of course."

"But if you're saying you don't want to lick the blood of your dead lover off my palms-"

"I really don't."

"-then I suggest you just don't ever take one," he said, nuzzling that time into her hand. "Mrs. Levesque-"

"Don't call me that yet." And the hand he was nuzzling into shoved his face away, none too lightly. He frowned, but Steph only stared heavily up into his eyes. "You can't.. You have to wait until… Until. Or else you'll ruin it. And it won't be special."

"Sheesh, alright, alright." Paul fell back onto his back, letting Steph get up then as he wanted her out of that dress and as soon as possible. If they waited much longer, he'd be ripping it off her and, well, that wouldn't go over quite well. Then it might be his blood on her palms. Watching her as she got up, he said, "Is that even what you want to be?"

"What do you mean?" Steph disappeared into their adjoining bathroom, but left the door open. Paul only pushed up on his elbows to watch.

"You'd drop the McMahon last name for me?"

He got an incredulous look then, from the bathroom, as Steph looked away from the mirror she was using to take her makeup off and frowned at him.

"Of course, I would."

"It's like a thing though now, isn't it? That you don't have to?"

"I mean, yeah, you don't, but I want to."

"Really?"

"Yes!" And she was being loud, because she was drunk, but it made him grin though that one had nothing on the one he was sporting after her next words. She was facing the sink again, more to keep him from seeing how much of a blush she was sporting, as she said, "I wanna be yours."

Paul stared hard for a moment, into the doorway of the bathroom, watching his girlfr- fiancee, smiling widely. Slowly, he fell back down to the bed before saying, "I want you to be too."

"Mmmm," she groaned, not glancing towards him. "Why are you still all the way over there, Paul?"

"I'm thinking the same thing about you."

"Because I need a shower," she said. "And so do you. So are you coming? Or not?"

Scrambling then to get out of the bed and strip down, he said, "Definitely coming."

Things calmed down again later, when the wine had lost its buzzing affect and left Steph rather sleepy. They were lying in bed, on their sides, with her facing away from him, though he had a rather tight hold on her and wasn't letting her get very far away.

Not that she wanted to be, anyways.

One of his hands fell over her stomach while her own covered his, stroking all of his fingers softly. He could feel her ring again and knew, even though her eyes were shut, that she was still staring down at it sleepily, as she had been for the past half-hour.

"I'm not never taking it off," she told him though a yawn as Paul just let out a soft sigh. "Swear."

"I believe you."

"It's beautiful."

"Perfect match then."

"Just perfect in general. All of it. Thank you. Gosh, Paul, I never would have thought that you would..."

"Would what? Propose?"

"Well…Just not like that. Definitely not like that." The hand resting over his stilled as she thought. Softly, she said, "I'm gonna, like, commit this all to memory. Or write it down. Something. I never want to forget this."

Her neck got a kiss as Paul opened his eyes, staring around the darkened room with a grin. "I never want to either."

And as he kissed her neck again, Steph shifted and they shifted, figuratively, away from how it had been before, in the shower, as the bad left and the good took over. He wanted to be kind, nice, and caring then, leaving his head buried in her neck as they rolled, him trapping her under him again.

It was worth it. For both of them. Every single thing. It was worth her nagging and whining and conniving to find things out for him while she would gladly take all the preparations for disappointment and uncertainty she felt over the whole thing, just to have that moment and all the ones that would come because of it.

* * *

 **A guest requested a proposal one-shot for Paul and Steph which I hope I delivered on well enough (my writing is kinda awkward with mushy stuff like this). Bit late, but better than never still, right?**


End file.
